


A Light in the Dark

by rinnwrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky is afraid of the dark, Bucky is shockingly well-adjusted, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Tony Fixing Bucky's Arm, Tony Stark Has A Heart, he also has an arc reactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-28 03:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: In which the Sokovia Accords are not a thing and Zemo framed Bucky for a UN bombing, but got caught before his plan could work, so the Avengers get a new potential member. Oh, and Bucky is afraid of the dark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is pre-slash if you squint, there's gonna be one to two more chapters (tops) with actual slash. Also more Avengers will probably join the party next chapter.
> 
> This is unbeta'ed and written with a very short attention span, pls be kind.

After all that he had been through, it was strange that his greatest fear was the dark. A swallowing blackness that smothered him, clouded his senses, and crumbled the careful composure he’d painstakingly created as a barrier between himself and this strange new world. Sure, he’d seen flashes, bits and pieces of how things had changed when he was out in the world, but it was only now, with the programming wiped from his mind, that Bucky could look on the world, this digital age, with the awe it deserved. 

And that he did, particularly in his new home, the Avengers compound, where he’d been released on his own reconnaissance after rigorous physical and psychological evaluation by Homeland Security, FBI, CIA, and every other government agency that wanted to get their hands on him. After poking, prodding, and more personal questions than he’d ever wanted to answer, he’d been given the cleanest bill of mental health a 27 year old WWII vet, amputee, quasi-super soldier could possibly have. In short...Bucky had issues, but he wasn’t a threat. At least that’s what he’d been told as he was offered the choice between a normal life - a return to his hometown that felt nothing like home at all - or a place with the Avengers, most certainly at Captain America’s behest. Steve wasn’t one to leave a man behind.

He wasn’t supposed to fight with them, not yet, at least, so that left him to train...and to wander.

 Bucky spent his days aimlessly pacing the corridors, asking questions of the woman in the ceiling (FRIDAY, they called her. She wasn’t a real person...he didn’t think), marveling at the brightness, the activity, the color of it all, an unaffected mask of indifference on his face all the while.

The rest of the team seemed to realize that he’d had enough poking around in his mind to last him a lifetime, and with the exception of the sad looks he got every so often from Steve, they left him to his thoughts, his wandering, and his privacy.

Privacy was something he hardly had a memory of, his time in the army leading to his time with Hydra, surrounded by fellow soldiers, initially, then scientists and handlers from there. His room at the compound was a challenge to get used to, especially with the unexpected space he was being given by everyone around him, but it slowly became his solace, albeit an uneasy one. It was where he did most of his thinking and remembering of the Bucky he was before, where he’d hug his knees tight to his chest when the terrors came (and they came - day and night). And the best part was...it was never dark.

On the first night he’d spent here, the room had plunged into total darkness when his head hit the pillow and immediately his lungs seized up, his heart went racing, even as his blood turned to ice in his veins. Paralyzed with fear, it had been all he could do to gasp out a weak “no” when the woman in the ceiling offered to send assistance. Despite his refusal, she’d raised the lights in his room, and that was when he realized, his panic ebbing slightly at the ability to see, that the last time he’d seen total darkness was from the cryo-chamber where he’d slept away most of the last seventy years.

That first night was also the first time he’d abandoned the idea of sleep in favor of roaming the halls. Since then, Bucky had exercised his newfound freedom, the lack of a locked door keeping him cooped up was a welcome change, and as the tremors subsided, he found himself taking silent steps past Steve’s quarters, then the common area, and venturing into parts of the compound that hadn’t been on his welcome tour.

Each time he wandered he went somewhere new. Someone with less spatial awareness would likely have gotten lost, but something in the back of Bucky’s head kept track of every corner he turned and staircase he followed - he didn’t want to think about just where the instinct came from.

It was nearing 2:00am one evening as he came upon a hallway with one wall entirely made of glass, and beyond it, a workshop.

Tech and gear lay in various states of completion across multiple shiny metal work spaces, automated robots tidied and cleaned, as holographic screens floated above each station, flashing blues, yellows, and reds and all too much information for Bucky to take in as he gazed in wonder at the sight in front of him. It took him a moment to even notice the messy head of brown hair that had popped up from one of the stations, watching him survey the space without his usual empty expression.

A grin played at the edge of Tony Stark’s lips when Bucky finally registered him, the tips of the soldier’s ears flushing at being caught unaware. He carefully slid his mask back on, trapping his childlike fascination underneath.

The center pane of glass slid back, as though of its own accord, granting Bucky access to the workshop, and while he didn’t want to appear as impressed and overwhelmed as he was, the chance to step inside was too tempting to pass up.

“New room too nice? Need something a little more pay-by-the-hour?” Stark quipped as the music that had been playing overhead faded out. Bucky had yet to spend much time with Tony, but he knew from everything he’d heard and read that the man was more often sarcastic than not.

“No, ‘s fine.” he answered the question as though Stark had meant it, as his eyes continued to wander the room, taking in all of the confusing and incredible scenery.

Stark chuckled, “Just taking an evening tour then, Stellaluna? That’s fine, you’re welcome to be openly in awe.”

It was another joke, but Bucky chose again to take it literally, cracks in his indifferent mask showing as his attention flitted from one project to another, partially constructed suits, an ant-sized fleet of tanks and planes, what looked like part of an angel’s wing constructed from shiny silver metal.

“You know, I thought Howard was good but this…” he let out a low whistle, “even I know the rest of the world can’t measure up to thi-”

He broke off, eyes landing on a gleaming silver hand, all too reminiscent of the one dangling at his side. “Is that..?” Bucky gestured at the hand, but didn’t finish his sentence, opting to step towards it instead.

Tony, who’d been grinning with the pride at the direction of Bucky’s comments followed his gaze to the prototype he’d just been working on that afternoon. The pride in his grin faded, but his excitement didn’t wane as he stepped over to the bench it was resting on, carefully picking it up to allow Bucky a closer look.

“Well, I may have hacked into your file to get the CIA’s scans of your tech - not the best I’ve ever seen, but considering the source and age, its an impressive hunk of metal. Of course, mine will be better.”

A whole new host of questions flowed into his mind, _Stark stole from the CIA? He was building him a new arm?_ “You read my file?” was what he settled on, that question worrying him a little more than the rest.

Stark snorted, “Of course I did. You’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn’t, even your pal Steve.”

It was simple. Matter-of-fact. But for some reason Bucky felt like thousands of strangers were peering into his head. After all of the doctors and shrinks...who knew what kind of information was in that file? Not only the facts of the evil deeds he’d done under HYDRA’s control, but his memories of them, vivid and clear as though it just happened, and the way he _felt_ about them, the intimate details he’d had pried out of him by various psychologists until every record of the Winter Soldier’s actions was accounted for - and Bucky properly felt the ache of regret over each one again and again.

“That’s why they’re all avoiding me.” he said blankly, any excitement and wonder fading from his face as the mask slid back on. He’d thought he could earn a place here, become the man he’d once been, before the fall from the train, and HYDRA’s influence, but his past seemed to precede him.

“More like Cap made everyone swear not to smother you….and maybe a side of fear you’ll murder them in a fit of violent rage.”

Though it shouldn’t have, it made Bucky laugh, a soft snort and quiet chuckle, because he’d worked himself up over it, but Steve warning them all off of him made more sense than _The Avengers_ of all people being scared of one man.

“Oh good, your personality is back, now tell me...how attached are you to the star, other than literally, because I’ve got big ideas…”

Perhaps it was the casual comfort in the face of Bucky, who still didn’t even trust himself, or the fact that he’d hardly spoken to another human in days, but from that point on, Bucky Barnes felt perfectly at ease in the company of one Tony Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: comes up with fab dialogue for this fic  
> Me: doesn’t write it down  
> Me: ends up publishing a crappier version of the dialogue i can’t remember
> 
> This chapter is shorter than I planned, but I promise the bit you've been waiting for is coming.

As the weeks passed, the quiet tension between Bucky and the rest of the team ebbed. Maybe it was because the worried look in Steve’s eyes faded, or because Tony took the lead in talking to him just like he talked to everyone else...or maybe it was because shockingly, incredibly, Bucky was finding himself comfortable.

His time with the Howling Commandos had been the best of his life, (aside from, you know, the war and well...nearly dying...twice) and training sessions sparring with the team were pulling him out of the vestiges of his funk. He found himself in the ring with Steve and Sam and Natasha, and even a few times with Wanda (though that was mostly just Bucky ducking the things she threw at him).

The nightmares still came, and the icy memories still hit him out of nowhere, but the panic attacks were few and far between...though he’d had a nice little chat with FRIDAY about keeping the lights on in his room all night long, he didn’t want to think about that one evening in the dark....

Of this whole new life in a new era, Steve might have been the best of it. Bucky’d been bombarded with memories as the head shrinks put him through the ringer, they dragged everything to the surface, and Bucky had clung to every thought of Steve he could. Recollection came back from Steve’s early time as Captain America, first; fighting together, waging war for their country as brothers in arms, and then the memories from before joined those from double dates to Coney Island as adults to playing stick ball in an abandoned lot with some other kids - overwhelming him with the notion that Steve had been a part of him for as long as he could remember. He was the one connection to every part of Bucky that mattered, every part that was real.

_Thwack._

And he wasn’t giving the man a moment to daydream. “Ouch.” he grumbled, pulling his fists up in front of him, taking a defensive stance with his boxing gloves between them.

“Shouldn’t have left your side open, Buck.” Steve teased, doing a rather ridiculous bouncing movement like he’d watched one too many boxing movies with Clint.

He refrained from gazing back out the window, where a quinjet was making its landing in a spectacular sight that Bucky had seen dozens of times now, though he still wasn’t used to it.

“Never knew you to take cheap shots, punk.” he shot back instead, letting a punch fly, only to have it deflected with relative ease.

“Of course you have, back in the day, cheap shots were my only option.” His right hook flew in and just missed a ducking Bucky.

“Good point, and you were always so optimistic about your chances.” He breathed out, faking left and landing a punch square against Steve’s right side. “I bet you’d try to fight the damn Hulk on your own if it came to that. Never know when to quit.” Bucky was bouncing on the mat now too, surely it was contagious.

“At least it’s because i’m dedicated and not just stupid.” Bucky deflected the two jabs that punctuated Steve’s words. “What’d HYDRA want with the IQ of a grapefruit, anyway?” That brought a bubble of shocked laughter from Bucky’s chest, distracting him sufficiently for Steve to throw another round of punches that ended with Bucky on the mat, wind knocked out of his lungs.

“Stick it in a blender, make a nice smoothie?” He gasped from the floor, watching the ghost of a concerned frown fade from Steve’s face. If he could joke about it, he really must be getting better.

 

++++

 

Bucky was back in his room, scrolling through a list of books on his _tablet_ which he was still getting used to, it made his eyes hurt to look at for too long at a time. He’d never been much of a reader in the past, but he’d been told by just about every single Avenger (even Thor?!) that the Harry Potter books were worth giving it a shot. Thinking he’d ask if there were paper copies anyway, he set the tablet on the nightstand and looked up to the ceiling, halfway through making his request to FRIDAY when the lights in his room flickered and blinked out.

_No._

His world winked into total darkness and his chest seized up immediately, body shaking as though he’d been doused with ice water and tossed out into the snow. Panic and fear rose up and he found that he couldn’t move, so he lay there, paralyzed in the dark, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. It almost felt like the lights would come up to illuminate that HYDRA bunker once more, a handful of scientists standing at the ready to burn the free will out of his brain again a haunting chorus of _Hail HYDRA._

Tears rolled down his face and he trembled, heart beating painfully against an unyielding rib cage, choking the air out of him as he curled in on himself, rocking back and forth for what felt like hours until-

“ _The power’s back, Sergeant Barnes.”_

It was only FRIDAY’s lilting voice returning from the ceiling that brought him to realize that his jaw was clenched and his eyes screwed shut. They flew open, only to blink at the brightness of light that had returned.

“What the hell happened?” he asked FRIDAY, voice shaky and breath still coming out in a laboured pant.

“My fault,” he heard from the door, the voice making him jump, familiar though it was. Someone shouldn’t be able to sneak up on him in that way. Of course, he wasn’t usually so out of it. He turned his back on Tony, where the man stood at the door, wiping the wetness from his eyes with his flesh hand and taking a few deep breaths.

“Unexpected reaction with the power source for Falcon’s new wings. Taking a step back from that for a bit.” Tony continued, seeming unashamed of the mistake, it probably went along with his whole ‘egg breaking’ thing. Every try couldn’t be successful.

Bucky was just glad that the inventor  pointedly ignored the pathetic state he was in. It wasn’t in Bucky’s interest to bring attention to the panic attack he’d just had, and he didn’t even get a strange or pitying look when he turned back to Tony, his soft brown eyes shining with excitement instead, grease on his worn grey henley and a rag tucked into the pocket of soft looking jeans.

“In the meantime, your new arm is ready.” he said giddily, like being able to replace Bucky’s prosthetic was 10 Christmas mornings rolled into one.

Raising an eyebrow, Bucky walked slowly across the room to the door, the skin of his flesh hand brushing absently over the fittings of his current tech. While Bucky hadn’t had any freedom or choice in the attachment of this arm, it was quite literally a part of him, and the idea of removing it was daunting. “Remind me why I need a new arm, exactly?”

Tony rolled his eyes, already walking swiftly towards the elevator and pressing the down button without hesitation. “Aside from the tech actually predating my birth, making it basically prehistoric?” he asked sarcastically, turning to look at Bucky as they boarded the elevator and it raced downward.

Bucky’s eyebrow remained raised, as he was still awaiting a real explanation, and Tony sighed.

“Fine, it was supposed to be a surprise, but Bucky, you’ll be able to _feel_ with this one.”

He felt dizzy, his heart became loud in his ears and a wave of warmth flooded through him, combating the cold he hadn’t shaken from the panic attack. “What?!” he breathed softly, working the fingers of his metal hand back and forth and trying to even remember what it felt like to _feel_ with that arm.

Tony just gave him a proud smile and stepped out of the elevator door as Bucky watched after him in awe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the conclusion of this little fic, mostly its just my version of a story that has been done a million times, but I hope you enjoy!

He’d expected parting with his old arm to be some sort of ordeal, to hurt or to feel like he was being taken apart, but in reality it was just Tony prying open a few panels, removing a screw or two, and disconnecting a bundle of wires, and suddenly it was gone. Looking at the old arm as it lay on the table was surreal, as was the sensation of being unable to access and control it. It had been decades (even if it only really seemed like a couple years) since that arm had been fitted to him. It was _his arm,_ not something he’d ever necessarily wanted, but it had become a part of him regardless, and now it was gone, but only for a moment.

“Eventually I’d like to replace the shoulder, but I try to leave experimental surgery to the experts when I can,” came Tony’s voice from where he was tidying up the wires and preparing to graft the new arm onto them. He was up close and personal, breath coming warm against Bucky’s exposed skin as he worked, and Bucky tried to tell himself that the goosebumps on his flesh were from anticipation of his new prosthetic, and certainly not the proximity.

Tony explained each step in the process as he went, and a lot of it went over his head, but he found himself trusting that it would all be okay. Tony did things like this for all of the Avengers, after all. If Sam would trust Tony’s creation to keep him in the air, Bucky’s arm would be just fine.

“Okay, get ready for a pinch, I’m going to inject nanites at the base of your neck, they’re programmed to isolate and bind to the severed nerve pathways, then communicate with the tech inside the arm to transmit all the sensations of a regular limb,” he rattled off, picking up a syringe with a large hollow needle on the end. At the uneasy look on Bucky’s face he gave a reassuring smile, “They’re perfectly safe, I use them too, to control the suit.”

That was good enough for Bucky. He took a deep breath and nodded, scrunching his eyes closed as Tony dabbed the base of his neck with an alcohol swab and injected the tiny bots into his bloodstream. For a moment there was nothing, just the slight pinch of the injection, and the stick of a band-aid as Tony covered the prick of blood left behind.

And then he felt it, like the worst pins and needles of his life, but welcome at the same time, as a limb so long forgotten by his brain tried to wake up. Even without the new arm attached, he could feel the tingling, like his real arm had just been asleep all this time, rather than severed and eternally lost to him. It wasn’t comfortable, but his face lit up regardless, because even discomfort was more than nothing.

“Now the arm?” he asked breathlessly, finally believing that this could actually be happening as the phantom tingling went on.

“Now the arm.” Tony confirmed with a satisfied grin on his face, he was all too pleased that his plan was working so far, but maybe more pleased to see that look of wonder on Bucky’s face, like the one he’d seen that very first night that the man stumbled into his lab. It made all the effort worth it.

With no small amount of flair, Tony tugged at the corner of the sheet that covered his completed creation, exposing the gleaming limb with pride.

It was aesthetically the same as its predecessor, minus the scrapes and dings of hard use over time, and the polished metal shone bright in the harsh lights of the workshop. The grooves and fittings were a bit cleaner, with what looked like a protective layer under the separated pieces to keep out any grunge, but the big difference was the absence of the bold red star. In its place sat the familiar Avengers “A,” painted cleanly across the seams in a bright white, and it took Bucky’s breath away.

His flesh fingers were reaching out to trace over the design before he knew what he was doing, but he felt Tony’s stare on his face and looked over at him with eyebrows raised, “The A?” he asked softly.

“I can take it off, but there’s been some chatter...if everything goes well training with this guy,” he gestured to the sleek appendage, “you’re officially cleared to tag-in on the next mission.”

It was only then that Bucky realized that he wanted it. He wanted to be an Avenger, a real member of this team. He wanted to start making up for the havoc he’d wreaked, to choose the side he fought for, to defend the greater good. Bucky was ready to decide when to take up arms, and to do it with people he trusted and cared about at his side. This was what he’d been waiting for.

“Will you please put it on, already?” he asked tightly, trying and failing to fight the giddiness as Tony chuckled and stepped forward to pick up the arm.

After the wires were connected, it was just as easy to put on as the old one had been to remove, and Tony was quickly stepping away, his creation carefully affixed to Bucky’s side.

The tingling sensation persisted, and Bucky tentatively tried to raise the arm, to no avail, “It’s not working.” It was almost a whine that came urgently from Bucky’s throat, and Tony chuckled.

“Give me a minute to activate it. Trust me, you’ll know when it’s online.”

He pulled over one of those odd holographic screens and started typing away on a keyboard that may or may not have been physically real, but Bucky wasn’t paying any attention to that because after a moment, he _knew._

The tingling faded and he felt a tremor of sensation starting from his shoulder and moving towards his hand, like hot wax trickling over him and encasing the limb in the warmth of _feeling_.

“Tony…” he breathed out, looking up into the man’s expectant face as laughter bubbled from his chest. He could feel. It was like a part of him that he could hardly remember being brought back from the dead, a cold, mechanical replacement exchanged for what he could believe to be the real thing.

“Try moving it.” Tony prompted softly, the joy Bucky was feeling echoed in his eyes as he watched the soldier slowly lift his new arm, bending it at the elbow and wiggling the fingers experimentally.

Something between a laugh and a sob burst from Bucky as he moved the arm. The motion in itself wasn’t much special, he’d been able to tell the old arm what to do and it obeyed, but now...now he could feel the smooth whir of power in the limb, the brush of one metal finger against another, _the resistance of the air_ against the limb as it moved. A closer look at his hand revealed a sort of rubbery coating over the palm and pads of the fingers.

Tony held something out to him, and he looked up from his hand to see a peach, ripe and colorful. He reached out to take it and gasped as those rubbery pads ran over its skin and he felt the fuzzy texture, sensed the tenderness of the fruit, and knew intrinsically what kind of force it would take to crush it in his hand. It was amazing.

“Take a little time, get used to it, and we can make any adjustments.” Tony’s voice pulled him out of his fixation on the fruit and drew attention back to the inventor in front of him.

Bucky nodded, watching Tony take the peach back with a flesh hand when a thought struck him. He didn’t really think it through before reaching out to catch his wrist, finding that he knew just how gentle to be as the pad of one finger found Tony’s pulse, the thrum of it sending shivers down his spine.

Tony froze in Bucky’s grip, swallowing as gentle fingers of his own design pressed against his pulse point, and wondering if Bucky could feel his heart rate spike at the contact, knowing perfectly well that he could. He knew the limb was artificial, but he’d created it to give off heat like human flesh, if he didn’t look, he wouldn’t know that it wasn’t a real hand against his skin.

The two men caught each other’s gaze for a moment, brown eyes full of pride and vulnerability meeting the awe and gratitude of blue.

And then something snapped and Bucky pushed forward, his hand releasing Tony’s wrist in favor of cupping his face, pulling him forward in an urgent kiss. He’d have thought it a mistake if Tony didn’t immediately respond in kind, the peach falling ,forgotten, to the floor as those worn hands found Bucky’s bare chest and scrambled for a grip on his waist.

Bucky let his new arm wander, reveling in the sensation of stubble on Tony’s cheek, groaning at the slide of silky strands of hair between his fingers, and sighing at the soft cotton of his shirt.

Tony, for his part, held on for the ride, finding himself pinned against the work table without a complaint in his mind. His fingers traced muscle and scar tissue as his teeth bit at Bucky’s lower lip before soothing the chapped skin with his tongue. Tony’s skin tingled everywhere that Bucky touched, chills following that prosthetic hand over his neck and his scalp, then down his back and abdomen where it timidly brushed against his crotch.

“Bucky.” he bit out, reluctantly pulling back and pushing halfheartedly against that muscled chest. “You, uh, you don’t need to do that.”

A moment of breathy silence passed between them as Bucky’s eyes, hungry and carefree, scanned Tony’s face, that same vulnerability under the surface. Tony thought this was some sort of repayment, just thanks for the tech upgrade, and Bucky could admit that in a way, it was gratitude, but that wasn’t all.

From the moment he’d arrived, Bucky’d been drawn to Tony. This workshop was a solace, but it wasn’t the place itself that called to him, but its inhabitant. He ached to be near Tony, to be accepted by him, it made him feel real, whole in a way that a piece of metal couldn’t on its own.

“I want to.” He answered surely, already stepping back into Tony’s space, metal fingers finding his waistband, brushing over the dusting of hair there. “Please let me feel you.” he pleaded softly into Tony’s ear, only allowing his hand to slip inside when Tony gave a frantic nod, reclaiming Bucky’s lips in a desperate kiss.

  


++++

 

Hours later found them pressed together in Tony’s bed, silky sheets in disarray around them and sated smiles on both faces. Bucky rested his head on Tony’s chest, metal fingers tracing the scar tissue around the arc reactor while Tony’s ran through his long hair.

“If that’s what ‘thank you’ looks like, I’m going to need to make you a lot more gear.” Tony said sleepily, moving his hand to trace the seam of metal and skin at Bucky’s shoulder, sending shivers down the soldier’s spine.

“I’m sure I can find other things to thank you for,” and it was a tease, but there was truth in those words. Bucky had plenty of thanks to give to Tony, the ability to curl up with him in sleepy satisfaction being high up on the list.

He watched Tony’s eyes fall closed and felt the change in his breathing as he drifted off to sleep, and it was only when he was alone with his thoughts that Bucky realized that the room had grown dark. It was entirely dark, actually, but he found that it had no effect on him when the cool blue light of the arc reactor washed over them.

He could also thank Tony for being a light in the dark.  


End file.
